His Messiah
by Purifying Flame
Summary: Bruce never understood his past. Lost in a world filled with pious extremists; he doesnt belong. Levi attempts to help him solve his own past's riddle, but when the unexpected happens, neither boy knows how to respond. Bruce is haunted by his mother, a ghost, wretched and demonic. Levi will fight with the light of religion and save him from the fire. Slash.


Blue-green eyes stared into the crowd of Hasidic Jews, lingering on long ear locks and graying beards. The streets swarmed with them; he could not see above the sea of kippas, couldn't bring himself to hear anything but Yiddish and Hebrew, his ears were overwhelmed with the sounds; but he waited quietly at the steps of the synagogue, playing with the hair that limply lay against his forehead. He felt his hands wandering around now, finally finding refuge in his jean pockets. He didn't belong here, he really, _really_ didn't. He belonged out there, outside those walls, in his own spider web—he belonged with society, with the monsters who dwelled just outside the temple walls. As he watched each and every Jew walk swiftly into their own building in their traditional garb, he began to feel worry set into his gut. He closed his eyes, eyelashes quivering against his high cheekbones as he fretted. Soon the streets were almost entirely cleared, and not one person had wandered over to question him—question this _outsider, _this person who obviously did not belong. The boy knew the synagogue he stood before was in ruins, and could not possibly hold any inhabitants, but he waited there anyway. It seemed like forever before familiar footsteps finally rung from across the street. He stood up quickly, gravel and ash beneath his feet crackling. The fire had ruined everything. He wondered why no one had tried to rebuild the old place yet. Glancing down at his tattered boots, he mumbled a curse and then tried to smooth down his wrinkled dress shirt. The footsteps approached quickly and soon he felt a warm hand intertwining with his. He looked up, feeling the warm callused palms brushing against his own skin. He smiled up at Levi, a toothy grin spread on his chapped lips. "Well, where have you been, Bruce?" Levi murmured, the same grin on his mouth. "Waiting." Bruce gestured down at his place on the steps. "Sorry about that. Come on lets go." Levi tugged on Bruce's hand; his other arm wrapped around dozens of books. Bruce stumbled once or twice before he regained his balance. "Sorry about having to meet you here. I'm sure it was really uncomfortable. You know, you being Catholic and all." Bruce nodded and bit his lip, letting Levi tug him down the empty street, his capped shoes clicking on the cement. "Why, uh," he took a breath before continuing, "Why haven't they rebuilt it yet?" Levi looked over at him, his icy blue eyes looking intense in the bright sunlight. "It's not worth rebuilding. They still haven't found a suitable rabbi to take Dov's place." Bruce looked down, dark hair falling over his face and he wished sincerely that he had thought to comb it before coming here. "But it's a church, why are they just leaving it there to rot or whatever." Levi snickered, "I don't think you remember exactly what happened in that church." Bruce looked over at him curiously before his expression fell. "Oh, that." Levi nodded and turned a corner.  
When they arrived at their destination, Bruce was already lost in his own world. He didn't notice the tall building in front of them until Levi yanked on his arm, giving him a sharp look. Bruce felt the rosary beads hidden under his shirt sliding over his skin and he suddenly felt uncomfortable walking into the library. "Come on." Levi's look was stern and Bruce crumbled beneath it, once again letting Levi lead the way. Immediately, the smell of old books hit them as they entered through the vast doors. Bruce glanced around cautiously, watching a sandy-haired woman roll a cart full of books down an aisle. His eyes flicked towards Levi who let go of his hand and began to walk towards her. Bruce felt exposed now, in the open, like all those spectacle-covered eyes suddenly cast down on him, scrutinizing him. He glanced away, down at his bag which held all his books. Levi returned quickly, pulling Bruce by the arm once again. "C'mon, hurry, we have to get back soon, I can't be late for the evening service." Bruce nodded solemnly, pulling his arm away and striving over to the aisle where he would find everything he needed. "Okay there." Levi announced after a few moments of silence, carrying several more books in his arms. He ushered Bruce to the checkout counter where Elizabeth, the librarian, scanned them all; giving them queer looks in the process as she read the titles. Bruce shuffled nervously beside Levi, torn jeans looking awful next to Levi's pressed clean slacks. Her eyes were menacing as they set down on Bruce and he felt even more exposed. She looked at the beads on his neck and then looked away in disgust. Bruce stood there for a few more minutes as Levi sweet-talked, a dazzling smile on his lips and the venom melted from her brown eyes. She kept her hand on Levi's a bit too long as she passed the books across the counter, and Bruce felt a surge of jealousy run down his spine, he grimaced at himself, feeling disgusted and stepped further away from Levi. As they walked out, Bruce trailed behind, watching Levi's slender frame saunter down the mostly empty streets, his brown ear locks swaying in the wind.  
The Hasids were back on the streets when they got back. Bruce watched them carefully, tripping when his eyes lingered for too long. He heard their avid voices discussing the Torah, arguing as they walked and making wild gestures with the hand that was not carrying a book or briefcase. Traditionalism showed in every step they took, from the way they dressed, even to the way they talked, Bruce knew they all followed the Talmud and Kosher rules and knew them by heart. He simply wished that same devotion and fanaticism could condemn his own pious heart. Bruce watched Levi greet many of the men; watched them smile behind their beards, eyes crease with what seemed like joy as Levi passed. Once again, Bruce thought he certainly did not belong here. He felt dirty and wrong as he walked those streets, careful not to bump into anyone; he may be dirtying them with his filth if he did. He could still feel Elizabeth's cold eyes blazing through his skin. He caught sight of the old ruins once more, conscious of the tears that were now filling up his eyes. He remembered who set fire to the church, remembered the crazed woman who had barged through those heavy doors, carrying an infant in her fragile arms, he remembered how she shrieked and screeched in Hebrew at the rabbi, how she had drenched the child in gasoline then and soon moved on to sprinkle some on every other inch of the floor, cursing in the name of God, how she cried and was restrained when his followers grabbed at her, telling her to put the child down. She told them she was a prophet of God; she said this child had to be killed, that it was pure evil. They lunged for the infant, restrained her. But she had already lit the match, and she bellowed, "The Messiah is here." The flames engulfed everything they knew, "cleansing", she said. She was cleansing the dirty, secular Apikorsims and modern Orthodox Jews. The tears were cold on Bruce's cheeks now; faintly, he felt hands grab at his bony wrist, felt himself being dragged along, faces blurring, but all he could hear were those woman's screams. He remembered how it happened and he wished his memory would let the vision go.  
"Bruce!" Levi yelled, shaking him violently. Lazy eyelids opened slowly, and Bruce awakened. "You saw it again, didn't you?" Levi's voice was concerned and Bruce watched his ear locks dangle down and brush against his face…brush against the scars. "It wasn't your fault." Levi muttered frantically, brushing off tears from Bruce's face. "You could not have stopped her. She was crazy, you know that." Bruce screamed, "She was my mother! And now they all think I'm insane. Did you _see_ Elizabeth's face when she saw me?! No, of course not, you were busy becoming closely acquainted with your stupid soon-to-be wife! All you ever worry about is being betrothed! All you ever think of is her, and me? Well, I'm no one. Isn't that right, Levi?!" Bruce clawed at his face, at his scars, the jagged lines where flames had engulfed his face, "You never bother to look! You pretend, you pretend I'm not becoming her. This parochial lie is blinding you, Levi! Your religion is a lie! Judaism, the Sabbath, Passover, everything is crap! You spend years in Yeshivas, learning about mysticism, Zionism, of the Promised Land, of Israel but you don't even know how to deal with this." Levi shook his head, "You're just stressed, that's all." Bruce let out a pained cry, "You don't listen! You think you know everything! You think you can fix this with a touch of Freud and a little study on psychoanalysis, 'the thoughts you have are of your subconscious, they're unconscious thoughts'. Does that sound familiar?!" Bruce's voice dropped down many octaves, "She said she's was coming for me, she said I was-a monster." "She was crazy, Bruce. You just said that. She wanted to kill you. Do you really believe some deranged loony is capable of any truth? You're just…" "What, Levi, what? What am I?" Bruce fell to his knees on the steps of the synagogue. "Do you really think…?" Levi sighs, sitting down next to Bruce, letting the books fall down the steps. He stares up into the darkening sky, then listening to the quiet hum of the city not far away. "What you saw…it's taking over you. She was just some crazy lady, you hardly knew her, you knew she was locked away after she tried killing you at birth, she's deranged, a baby killer." Bruce flinched at the words, the sting of insult sinking in, she was his mother, and she was a baby killer. "She left you one thing, those beads." Levi grabbed at them, ripping them from Bruce's neck and they shattered, fleeing to different directions and when Bruce cried, and lunged for them Levi grabbed his shirt. "You think she was some sort of messenger, told you my religion is evil. You're sick, Bruce. She poisoned you with her words, Bruce. She was no prophet, no Messiah, not even your mother. She doesn't deserve that title. She hurt you, in any way she could. But me, Bruce, I would never hurt you. I've stuck with you for years, since that day. I've tried to help you, teach you about the Messiah and God, but you're too sick." Bruce swallowed, looking down at his torn jeans, scrapped knees, and bony wrists. He petted the scars, the unusually pale skin on his hands. Was he crazy too? Suddenly, he felt Levi's warm hands on his face, turning him towards him. His eyes almost glimmered in the dark, a pale blue shining. His fingers ran over the raised skin, over scar tissue. "You need to let it go. I can't ask you to come back to Judaism, I can't even ask you to come back home, but you need to let her go. She's a bad memory, something your subconscious is pushing away. Let it go, Bruce. You're not what she says you are." He strokes Bruce's face for a bit longer, sincere eyes glinting. "This is the only thing you need to keep." He ran his fingers over the long jagged scar running down his cheek. "This reminds you that you fought for us, you tried to save Dov and the rest of his followers, that you tried to stop her from burning the synagogue down, that you are not just anyone, that you belong here, with us." Levi dropped his hands, and took off his kippa, his ear locks swaying in the gentle wind. "Now come, Bruce." He extended his hand. "Let me help you forget. Let me replace that awful memory." Bruce took Levi's hand.

_End_

4


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